


A Voice that Calls

by PhantomxWolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Off-screen Character Death, Off-screen Relationship(s), Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomxWolf/pseuds/PhantomxWolf
Summary: Every night Alfred hears that same voice. It ways says the same thing."Alfred!"It doesn't come from inside the confines of the cabin he lives in but rather from somewhere deep within the surrounding forest.The temptation to follow is always quite present.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	A Voice that Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Major character death off screen  
> Sorta dark supernatural short my mind threw together.  
> Unedited because I don't have energy.

Silence muted the typical sounds one would find in the forest. It lingered for a brief moment as if testing its own validity before the settling of the wooden cabin broke it. A breath of air escaped him as he leaned back, gazing at the stars. The stairs groaned at the burden, causing him to playfully pat the rotting deck. "You've made it this far old girl, don't give out on me now!" A rather loud voice called the words echoing throughout the surroundings trees. It was chilly out, the air having a bite to it that nipped at exposed skin. He'd grown far to used to it to give it any mind. The scuttle of a mouse nearby caught his attention, its movement making the leaves beneath it crunch. This was quickly discarded, ruled out as a threat and boring enough to forget about. Despite this, the scene was serene. His feet thumped against the stairs below him to some rhythm before he paused. 

A breeze shuffled the surrounding branches causing the male currently occupying the stairs to quiet. He tilted his head to the side to listen to the noises accompanying the air flow. "Alfred" An accented voice called from the distance. British. Familiar. 

The bright grin on his lips as he addressed the house and indulged the environment faded. Again. Here they were again. How many times did he think he'd fall for it? Alfred didn't move though. He stayed rooted to the spot. Why should he leave anyway? It would be a waste of energy. This was his home. He wasn't going to leave it. "How long are you going to play this game Arthur? You've lost." He called flatly, unamused but not bothered. 

He couldn't find it within himself to feel sympathetic for what transpired. He hadn't want to the blond headed brit was just so tempting. Something about the defiance settled into his actions, ingrained behind his eyes and about determination. Something about him screamed dominant. Alfred liked that. Maybe it was those calculating eyes that he felt on his ass as he moved across the kitchen. He was an interesting person to unravel. Thats not to say thats all he was doing. He did enjoy the time spent with the shorter male. 

He just enjoyed _devouring_ him so much more. 

More voices joined Arthur's. A cacophony of tones. Masculine, feminine. Young and old. Low and high. One voice was hardly distinguishable from the bunch. Their emotions varied as well. Some were angry, like Arthur. Some were desperate, others just- empty. They call called his name. _Alfred_. He hadn't meant for this to happen again. He had just wanted to help the lost and weary travlers who found themselves too far off the trail. But he knew better then to listen to the voices too. So he stood stretching out as he did so, giving his shoulders a good roll. The light that the stars above gave was unnecessary. The area was illuminated to his eyes as if it were noon on a sunny day. 

He didn't know why but he paused as he meandered off the wooden steps. He turned around and reached a claw out to carve A.K. into the bottom of the last step. He promised himself that Arthur Kirkland was the last of his walk in feasts. He said that everytime. His head turned to where he had heard the Brit before. His muscles twitched with the desire to follow that familiar voice. A voice within him welled up and screamed at him to _ignore_. It was a harsh and violent thing that thrashed and snarled and won. So it seemed the cycle would go on.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what Alfred is. Don't ask me lol. He's just some creature I thought of a premise of. And why would there be a cacophony of voices calling out to him? 
> 
> Those are his victims. Their spirits calling out to lure their killer in to the woods. If the beast listens to those he kills then he is to wander the forest aimlessly until death finds him. The spirits guide him away from any potential hikers and explorers.
> 
> Now does Alfred like playing human? Does he simply want a meal? Does he care for those he kills? Those are food for thought ;)


End file.
